


Recollection

by Pallet_and_Cerulean



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 00:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18884617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pallet_and_Cerulean/pseuds/Pallet_and_Cerulean
Summary: Still, there was a special place in the Knight’s heart, or whatever void or soul lay inside them, for Hornet. She had been apart of their journey since the very beginning of their descent, even if they endured more than a fair share of rough patches together. And so, the Knight took special care to visit Hornet whenever they felt lonely, or felt that their sibling could use the companionship. It had become a well worn habit, something as familiar as the cloak on their back. And that was exactly what drew the Knight to Greenpath then.





	Recollection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ibrokeeverything](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibrokeeverything/gifts).



> Happy birthday, ibrokeeverything!

With the infection cleared away, Greenpath was a much more pleasant place to be. The rest of the kingdom was far improved as well - though the Knight still wasn’t fond of the lurking shadows and hostile Weavers of Deepnest - but there was something about the tranquil glades of moss and scattered leaves that drew the Knight in. They found themselves spending many of their aimless days there, be it conversing with the Hunter or admiring the lush plant life. And trips to see Sheo and learn the art of painting were an absolute must. 

Though, there was one thing in Greenpath that called to the Knight far more strongly than anything else. A particular sibling of theirs who had taken up residence in the land of wild greenery. One who’s needle had once spelled demise for the young Knight, buried in their skull more times than they could count. They could still feel the phantom sensation of every webbing crack where void had leaked out, now patched and repaired. But now the flash of pink cloak and white thread were a welcome sign of a friend rather than a foe. And the Knight sought her out whenever the drifting winds blew them in her direction. 

Hornet had changed little since the Knight had first met her long ago. A bit more open and willing to truly understand, but still just as enigmatic and sharp witted as the moment they met. Though, the Knight was pleased to find her far les hostile than in those early days. Their friendship had been kindled through shared grief and struggle, forged in fires few had witnessed and even fewer had the strength to bear. While they couldn’t speak for Hornet, the Knight felt a similar bond to the Hollow Knight, amiably called Hollow now, and they liked to think that she felt that same kinship. 

Still, there was a special place in the Knight’s heart, or whatever void or soul lay inside them, for Hornet. She had been apart of their journey since the very beginning of their descent, even if they endured more than a fair share of rough patches together. And so, the Knight took special care to visit Hornet whenever they felt lonely, or felt that their sibling could use the companionship. It had become a well worn habit, something as familiar as the cloak on their back. And that was exactly what drew the Knight to Greenpath then. 

The Knight wandered through the lush undergrowth, careful and always wary of thorns. Though, the vicious spiked plants seemed to have receded as of late. The Knight wasn’t sure wether they were being cut or if the natural flora of the land was just reclaiming the space from the invasive plants. Still, it was a nice change to see and certainly made the treks through Greenpath more pleasant. A few Maskflys rustled in the branches overhead, sonw alighting from their perches when the Knight passed beneath them. 

Crossing a few bubbling pools of acid and clambering up a steep hillside, the Knight found the terrain growing more and more familiar with each step. They were nearing the area Hornet called home, a little alcove not far from the lake. With a surprising wash of nostalgia, they remembered following the illusive bug all the way there through the twists and turns of the glades. That fateful day, Hornet had taken care to always stay just within reach, straying from sight only to be found again after a handful of wandering moments passed. 

Now, though, the Knight had no need to track mysterious figures through the brush, wondering if that silhouette was as lost as they felt. And it was a nice feeling to be meeting a friend in a place they could call home, even if it was still left damaged and rather deserted in the wake of the infection. With a quick glance down into the Stag station, where a comforting wrought iron bench waited, the Knight continued on their way. It was just a few more leaps over ledges of mossy rock before they could reach the familiar alcove. A friendly Mosscreep was ambling through the undergrowth in the Knight’s path. And the Knight was glad to see they were no longer hurriedly reaching for their nail on instinct like they had in days past. Now, they merely stepped around the innocent creature and carried on. 

Finally, with one last jump, the Knight dropped down into the little hideaway. The stone floor there was blanketed in a thick layer of lichen and fallen leaves. Trailing vines hung down over the space, too, some spilling nearly to the ground. Though, what stood out above everything else was the rosy cloak billowing in the gentle breeze. The sight seemed enough to warm and brighten the space. And the Knight was glad to see it, for it meant Hornet had time to see them, not too busy out adventuring through the Kingdom and beyond. 

Moving quietly through the leaves, the Knight stepped up behind Hornet. She looked to be resting on a bench of wood and vine, grown in with patches of plush moss. And it didn’t seem like she’d heard the Knight approaching either, so they took a ginger step around the bench to sit beside her. It was only then that Hornet stirred. She blinked a few times then looked up - that’s right, up- to meet the Knight’s gaze. That had been an adjustment for both of them, when the Knight began to grow taller. Now just as long and gangly as Hollow, the Knight found the world looked a great bit different from their newfound height. 

Narrowing and curving her eyes in what could almost be called a smile, Hornet gazed up at the Knight. Fondly, they lowered their head until it rested against Hornet’s, reveling in the touch for a moment. Though, after a few beats, they straightened to sit properly, or as properly as they could, legs folded and tucked under the bench. 

“What has brought you here, little ghost?” Hornet questioned inquisitively. 

Those words had the Knight wondering if Hornet has been thinking of the past. For it had been a long time since she had last called them that. The name ghost had clung to them ever since they met Hornet, as unshakable as their shadow. But the day the Knight grew taller than Hornet, she quickly shortened little ghost to ghost. And never once had she slipped up since then. Though, it was a pleasant thing to hear, like opening an old favorite book again after letting it collect dust for far too long. 

Letting the stray thoughts flit away, the Knight slipped an arm into their cloak, only to pull out a flower. The delicate, satiny petals shimmered an iridescent white and almost seemed to give off a pale glow. While a tad weary from the travel, the flower looked little worse for wear and the Knight was glad to see it survived the trip. It had been a bit of a treacherous path, bringing it back from the grave in the Queen’s Gardens, but the Knight thought it was well worth the effort. After all, they had never seen such a beautiful thing and hoped Hornet would appreciate it as much as the Grey Mourner seemed to. 

With the flower outstretched towards her, the Knight offered it to Hornet, watching hopefully. After a moment of contemplation, she took the flower and decisively tucked it into the hem of her cloak. And with quick, precise movements, she threaded her needle into the fabric and tied the flower in, snug and secure. Then, she tied off the thread and stowed her needle away, seemingly satisfied with her handiwork. For a moment, she just admired the breathtaking bloom. 

“You have my gratitude,” Hornet said, gaze still fixed on the flower now stitched into her cloak. It looked nice there, the Knight thought, a fitting compliment to Hornet, elegant and fragile yet somehow bringing an air of the strength of a wildflower. Then, her attention turned back to the Knight, head tipped back to look up at them properly. “It has been too long since I have been shown such simple kindness.” The words sounded like a breeze drifting by, unhurried but felt deeply all the same. 

“I believe the kingdom benefits from souls like yours, no matter whether you are called void or vessel, bug or knight. I fear even as a hero of Hallownest you will never receive the recognition you should. But know I see you, ghost. And even if we should stray apart some day, know that I will keep your memory close. After all, it is one of my few treasured possessions,” Hornet said, her serious, wistful tone cracking to give way to something warmer in her final words. 

Pleased, the Knight closed their eyes for a moment and let the words wash over them. Hearing that felt like sunshine dappled through the leaves. It was warm and sweet, something to bask in. And bask they did, even as Hornet chuckled at them, amused. 

After a few beats of fond laughter, quiet stretched over them. It was comfortable and very familiar by now, having spent many afternoons merely soaking up each other’s company. And the rustle of leaves and grasses in the gentle breeze, the occasional flutter of Maskflys or chirp of some creature in the distance made a fair enough ambient melody of their own without the need for words. And eventually, the Knight realized, Hornet must have fallen asleep. They were getting dreary them-self, head drooping and eyes beginning to close, when Hornet’s head fell to rest against their side. 

The Knight did their best to hold very still, not wanting to wake Hornet. Though, as carefully as they could, the Knight shifted closer to better position her so they could both be comfortable. And once they were certain they had gotten away with it without disturbing her, relief washed over them. It wasn’t too long before the Knight found them-self starting to drift off too, the comforting weight of a friend at their side. And the last thing they could remember seeing before the gentle lull of sleep pulled them under was the pale, white glow of a delicate flower, held against a familiar shade of rosy cloth.


End file.
